


it's not easy until it is

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Come Marking, Comeplay, Developing Relationship, Dry Orgasm, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, POV Bucky Barnes, Porn With Plot, Protective Tony Stark, Shameless Smut, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 21:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20052895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the end, when he drifted off with fingers in Tony’s damp hair and arms around his shoulder, he thinks maybe he wouldn’t be so opposed to try it again with Tony. Maybe not too long after. Maybe soon. Maybe the morning. After all, Tony did promise him a ride.





	it's not easy until it is

**Author's Note:**

> please wear protection when you have sex. i just like the concept of bare-backing when i write smut but that doesn't mean i support it irl. condoms! dental dam! protect!  
and lube. lots of lube.

Sex is an upstanding challenge. The first time Tony hinted at it, in between long kisses and lingering touches, James froze like a deer in the headlights.

They didn’t kiss like that after that until Tony cornered him up a wall post one of their missions and said it’s alright, he’s not looking to rush James into anything and it was just out of curiosity that he brought it up.

So the next time it popped up, it was literal. Not in any form of words but the press of Tony’s arousal up James’s own drove his mind crazy with needs so he breathed in ten times until all the fog cleared up and pushed Tony about an inch away from his own form. “We can’t, Tony. Not when I’m like this.”

‘Like this’ comprised of his mental state in the most vague sense. ‘Like this’ referred to the number of times he jerked awake in his sleep, violent and ready to choke someone to death because he thought he was in Hydra’s freezing basement all over again.

‘Like this’ meant losing his train of thoughts in the middle of a boring movie, teetering dangerously between sanity and insanity, jumping violently with harsh breaths when someone makes contact with him during that fragile time and frankly, it’s only by miracle he hasn’t caused a single fatality in the household all this while.

And he cannot afford to break that streak. Especially not by finally losing his plot in the presence of the single most precious thing/person he’d had come to find. No. That cannot happen at all. James will put his _life_ on line to prevent that from happening at all. He could barely fathom the thought of Tony being injured, what more the thought of _him_ being the cause of those injuries. No. Not if James has any say in it at all, no, he won’t.

“You worry too much.” Tony placates him.

He doesn’t push the topic. But he watches every one of his touches and closing distances meticulously. He goes out of his way to make James feel comfortable in their still new and fragile relationship.

He understands James and the roots of his worries, which are all the reasons that make James to open his mouth and say it out aloud one day, in the ebbing darkness of the dusky sky that gives way to purple hue of morning sunlight.

It’s one of those night, when James cannot sleep and FRIDAY conveniently tips off that Tony is awake too so they cross path just because anything’s better than crippling loneliness after a horrible dream. He lets Tony pull him to the penthouse and make him a drink.

He remembers when once they used to be of alcohol variety, then one time when Tony was visibly shaking on one of _his_ night, James -equipped in no knowledge of making an alcoholic beverage – gave into his instincts and cooked up a hot cocoa under twenty minutes, all from scratch. Since then, those nights haven’t been the same. Their _relationship_ haven’t been the same.

“I have solid reasons to base my worries on, Tony.” James answers flatly, the heat from the mug seeping into his senses, warming up his metal fingers more rapidly than they do his flesh ones. He pulls away the metal one in count of five.

“Agreed. But one can never know for sure until you’ve given it a try, right?” Tony shrugs, his own mug abandoned at the corner of the table where he’s sitting, eyes zeroed in on his Stark-pad. He looks up from it for a fleeting second as if delivering the point across. James makes a face.

“I’m not risking a chance.” He grits out a little too angrily than he meant to then blinks. But the effect is instant.

Tony puts down his device, stool scraping against linoleum floor as he stands up carefully and walks the few steps until he’s in front of James, prying the warm mug out of his hands in exchange for his own calloused hands. “Do you mind?” he asks and James has no idea what he’s talking about but agrees anyway, because he’d do anything for Tony. Anything at all -

“Tony.” He jerks away when the man closes in, left leg swinging up and James realises before its too late that he’s trying to sit astride on his lap. Tony pauses long enough for James to freeze in his seat before trying again. “Trust me.” Is what he says when he’s weighing down on James’s tensed thighs, bodies too close for comfort, heat welling up between them making James think of hundred different ways to get away from there without offending Tony and coming with none.

“James?” Tony coaxes him until he blinks. He’s aware sure, just nailed flat to the seat.

Tony’s calloused fingers pad across his face, his own face creased in worry lines that pinch deeply between his eyebrows. “I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want to do.” James swallows. He knows that. “But if you’re holding yourself back from anything at all because you don’t trust yourself enough, all you have to do is ask and I’m more than willing to help you through it.”

It’s an offer. Tony stating clearly that it’s okay if James opts to decline said offer as much as it would be okay if James accepts it.

It makes James think of all the other people he has in his life, someone else who would give him similar options, someone else who would accept James’s ‘no’ in the middle of their trial in case he chickens out. Someone else who’d give him as much freedom as Tony would and he has a few names on top his head. Definitely not Steve but Natasha, Sam, Dr Banner maybe and he’s sure Tony would call in an unbiased expert on the field himself if only James asks, but –

“Will _you_?” He croaks out, the rasp in his voice breaking those two words apart painfully. He hears Tony’s breath hitching and realises belatedly that Tony was probably not expecting James to accept it. Maybe he counted on James to ask for sometime to consider it even but not flat out agree in that instance, much less say ‘yes’ to _him_ in particular.

“You sure?” Tony prods, brown eyes molten under the artificial lights in the kitchen and James nods stiffly, refusing to backtrack now that he’d decided. If Tony wasn’t expecting him to say ‘yes’ he should have thought twice before offering. So James squares his shoulders and fixes his frown on the man on his lap. “Yes.”

The grin that breaks across Tony’s face is a beautiful surprise, but he’s not given enough time to process it before Tony’s eager mouth is on him, teeth and wetness colliding with happiness that spreads from Tony through James’s mouth and into his veins until he’s smiling back into their kiss as well.

“Great!” Tony exclaims, pulling apart. “I thought you would say no and that you would want someone else to help you with it but okay, this is wonderful because now I can show you all those sexy ways in which I can help you.”

James snorts, laughing when Tony steals another kiss from him because only Tony would say something like that. Only Tony would expect rejection and simultaneously plan out something elaborate while proposing his wonderous ideas. Only Tony.

Thus, began the work on James Barnes’ self-control, reclamation of his sanity and the healing of his patchy mental wounds under the gentle but capable hands of Tony Stark.

It started alright. With hitches and glitches here and there from time to time. There were several instances when James pleaded to quit, nearly tearing up in Tony’s hold because he cannot imagine if that knife had landed on its target; or if he’d squeezed just a little bit harder and then –

“I could have seriously hurt you, Tony.”

“But you didn’t.”

It wasn’t the most reassuring response ever but Tony sometimes would specifically point out the extent of damages his armor is capable of. All the way he can make the entire suit or parts of it portable; “The respond time is shorter this way. Barely two seconds for this mundane looking wrist watch to turn into a killing gauntlet.”

Which made James insist that Tony have it on him all the time. Tony inclined.

But those days got scarcer. Better days started making more appearances. Eventually, James could go two weeks without fading out. He’d survive two months with only one occurrence of slip out. If it wasn’t for their missions, Tony claims and James somewhat agrees that, he could go on his clean streak for maybe four months straight.

It makes him wonder, subsequently bolder, in pursuing the physical part of his relationship with Tony. He’d longingly imagine - way past his wanking - how it would feel like to hold Tony _after_, to curl with him and wake up to him the next morning. All naked and sated and maybe even morning sex._ Definitely_ morning sex. Which would set him off again.

He became braver in hoping. Because now, hoping no longer felt like sinning, but just an enticing promise to a rather beautiful future. And all the reasons why those futures are beautiful is because Tony is in them.

One day, they’re watching some weird sci-fi movie, one pulled out from Barton’s file and it’s everyone minus Barton who forced them to watch it then conveniently excused himself under the pretence of a surprised duty-call dragging Natasha with him; which left Tony, Steve and Bruce sighing through the crap-film. Thor went to the loo half-an-hour ago and hasn’t returned since.

James is alternating between focusing on the rubbish on-screen and Tony curled cosily under his metal arm and it’s a fairly new method of coping; Tony said to try looking at him if James gets too far gone in his head and if it helps, Tony wouldn’t mind at all - in facts the more James pays him attention, the more Tony likes. His words exactly.

So, James doesn’t hold back. Shifting his entire concentration on Tony when he could no longer keep his eyes on the movie without slipping away in a second. He goes unnoticed for twenty minutes, before someone clears their throat explicitly to his right and he turns to receive a flat look from Steve who then nudges Bruce, one arm away and declares, “I’m gonna hit the bunk now, Bruce has to check up on his… project. You two enjoy yourself.” Then a very exaggerated wink right before he leaves which just confuses the fuck out of him so he turns to the only other person in the room beside him, Tony, who gives him a sheepish look and apologizes meekly.

“What for?”

Tony fiddles with the remote. “Steve may have caught me trying to adjust my pants, just now”

“So?”

Tony swallows, looking away. “James.” He says, as if James could decipher what he meant when he calls his name like –

“Oh.” He looks away himself, heat crawling up his chest to his ears.

“Yeah.” Tony clears his throat, then moves to unstick himself from James’s side but fails when James imprisons him under his arm.

He doesn’t know what makes him do it. He doesn’t even know if he’s ready for it; and if judging by the near misses tonight, he probably barely is. But Tony is so warm and soft next to him. The citrus undertone beneath his signature metal and motor oil ones (that comes through sometimes when he’s spent few long hours in the workshop and comes too close to James afterwards to inhale him) teases something else within James tonight and his steel-resolution crumbles like cookies to ground.

And he wants. The warmth, the citrus smell, the wetness of Tony’s mouth on him, that delicious friction which happens sometimes when they collide a little too closely against each other. All that and more. James wants. Like a thirst desperate to be quenched.

Suddenly everything is amplified; from Tony’s quiet breathing, their body heat, his own heartbeat in his throbbing chest. James wants and he yearns like a wolf after the moon.

“I want to go all the way.” He murmurs, as he turns to regard Tony meaningfully, steel blue eyes flickering between doubt and greed and finally settling on decisively. “I want to try.” He’s on a two months clean streak, he’s been good. _Really_ good.

Tony swallows audibly under his gaze. “Just so we’re on the same page. We_ are_ talking about sex, right?”

James inhales sharply. The word still injects a foreign rush into his system when mentioned so vocally. “You take the wheel,” he says. He cannot trust himself on the driver’s seat. Not yet. Not for their first time at least.

Tony complies, slipping away from James’s metal arm and pulling James to stand up with him. “If we’re doing this, then we’re doing this right. Which means; you and me in the bedroom. Not the communal area, although we can try that some other time in the future but only if you’re okay with it, I mean-,”

“Tony.” James tugs lightly at the hand around his flesh wrist. “Just - Lead the way.” He nods in the direction of the elevator behind them and as if he’d just realised he could move, Tony jerks and sets a hurried pace to the penthouse, pulling James hurriedly behind him.

He babbles all the way there while James internally freaks out, tries to calm down, freaks out again and tries to calm down again. And once they’ve reached, Tony fidgets at the doorway to his bedroom nervously.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not doing this because you feel pressured, right?”

“No.” James shakes his head, closing in what little space existing between them, taking a deep inhale. “No. I’m doing this because I want to do this.” He assures, flesh fingers curling at Tony’s jaw and lifting it into a perfect angle for kiss. “I really, _really_ want this, Tony.”

It’s awkward. For some trippy reasons, James gets the angle all wrong as if this is their first time kissing, prompting Tony to take charge instead; the familiar feel of calloused fingers on his clean shaven cheeks making him sigh in both relief and un-adultered want.

“You’re gonna let me take care of you soldier?” Tony whispers, when they part and James keens, almost wilting in Tony’s arms.

He trusts Tony so much, it hurts him somewhere visceral. Tony’s strong for him, holding himself and James straight as if he’d do it any given day. Like it’s no problem for him at all and it makes James sad because it should be something. This isn’t supposed to be natural. Tony should know that he wasn’t born to shoulder more than only himself.

But that’s who Tony is though. He’s the man who would play Atlas as if he’s born to do so anytime. He’s the guy who would place everyone else first and himself last. He’s the man who wormed himself into James’s inexistent heart, pulled it out of nowhere and framed it, made James look at it and wrote ‘It’s Tony Stark’s property’ beneath it. He’s the fella James fell for so hard and so fast it freaked the fuck out of him.

He’s Tony Stark and he’s James’s fella.

“Only if you’d allow me to return the favour, doll.” James tilts his head and kisses rough palm and Tony preens, not so obviously but James has learned to pick out his telling quite quickly. And the way Tony sighs and ducks his head so his chin digs into the space between James’s neck and shoulder is clear enough to pass for preening.

Tony loves pet names. Loves using them on others, loves to have them used on him even more so. And James has no qualms about it. In fact, he gets on it as if it’s natural for him (must have been before he lost a chunk of his memory). He keeps the neutral ones for the rest of the team, while the fond, affectionate ones, they’re all for Tony.

All the sweethearts, all the baby, all the loves, all the dolls. Everything is for Tony.

He curls his flesh fingers into Tony’s curl and tugs at it just the way Tony likes so he can dive in for another kiss. Tony gasps into it and James pushes his tongue forth, getting into a dance they’ve well practiced for months now.

He kisses with all the fervour, all the knowledge of which and what makes the undoing of Anthony Edward Stark. He kisses with adoration, reverent for the man who owns his heart.

And sweet Tony, he reciprocates all the same. Tongue, lips, mouth, teeth and large part of his own heart in the kiss as well.

“Tell me what you like, honey.” Tony whispers into his ears, teeth nibbling on James’s earlobe, setting fire to his sensitive nerves.

James shudder, pulling Tony closer into him; chest against chest, not a new thing, but when he lets go and slips his metal hand up Tony’s shirt; the feel of the warm flesh of his belly? Yes, _that_ is definitely a new thing.

Tony hisses, forgetting himself for a second as he focuses on ducking his head and breathing harshly into James’s neck. While James runs with his initiative and flattens his hand all over the hot skin, thumb flexing and rubbing and he pushes it upward, almost hovering but not so much, and Tony – Jesus.

Tony moans.

“You like this?” James asks boldly, thumb flicking at a pert nipple and fingers flexing experimentally, squeezing the flank a little. With a mild but delightful surprise, he receives Tony’s full weight in his arms, sagging, and prides in the fact that he’s the reason that Tony’s legs had just gave out on him.

“You have a thing for my arm, baby?”

Tony whimpers into his neck, lips wet and damp against James’s skin there. Breath hot and delicious. “Call myself Iron Man for a reason, darling.” And he may have aimed to sound confident but he came across desperate when James, in time, gave a tighter squeeze to his flank and another flick to his nipple.

“Metal turns you on?” James prods, teasing.

Tony groans, sinking teeth on the crook on James’s neck. “_You_ turn me on, James. Just _you_.”

And God doesn’t James’s last perseverance collapse on him just like that.

Abandoning all sensibilities, he scoops Tony in his arms and closes the last few distances between them and the bed. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby doll.” He promises, laying the weight of Tony carefully on the mattress. The position puts himself hovering over and suddenly, he’s feeling like a fucking predator out for blood until Tony stretches, offering and James blanks out.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He hears himself like an echo. Faraway and annoyingly on loop.

But sweet Tony, he’s so precious and so damn patient for James. “You’re not.” He cups both hands over James’s nape and tugs.

James’s hand give out to his elbows for bearing and he hesitates. “I don’t trust myself.” He confesses wearily. Ducking his head in shame.

Tony sneaks one arm away to pull his chin up, until blue meets brown. Cold against warm and James shudders because he doesn’t deserve this. He really doesn’t.

Tony is so good. So precious. He’s everything superior to James’s inferior. Even when whole and in the prime of his youth in 1940s, James doubts he’d feel enough for Tony. Because Tony is just _that _good.

“Trust me.” Tony says, brown searching blue and warmth floods into James like the rising sun on winter morning. He grabs onto that and hangs his life to it and he nods. Albeit shakily.

“You can do that, right?” Tony asks, voice velvety low and so, so beautiful.

“You asked me to take the wheel right? I promised to take care of you remember?” James nods again, doesn’t remember when he’d had collapsed – 200 pounds weight - atop Tony’s lithe frame and he’s too close to sobbing with his forehead tucked under Tony’s chin.

“Hey.” Tony nudges his chin up - his wrist watch which is more than just a watch, a comforting sight to James - breath tingling, whisper soft in James’s ears. One kiss to his forehead in return for a full bodied shudder. Another one on the bridge of his nose, slightly ticklish making James’s cheeks warm. Last one on the cleft of his chin which makes James groan in pure embarrassment cause he feels like he’s being coddled and Tony laughs.

James flips over so Tony’s on top of him and he’s under. His blue eyes glimmering with teasing glints and he quirks his lips up into a mischievous smirk. Tony, unexpectant of the turnover, gasps with his eyes wide open in surprise and jaw slack with kiss swollen lips that do so many indescribable things to James.

“You alright there?” James drawls, his confidence coming back full force as he sneaks another glance to the wrist watch, rubbing one hand up Tony’s back, beneath the shirt, skimming over hot skin while the other – metal one- stay’s firm, cupping Tony’s head gently. Plates skimming through curls and tugging some that gets caught and James watches – mesmerised – as Tony parts his lips, tilting his head back – eye closed – and he moans lowly, whisper thread and broken like he didn’t mean to but helpless.

Keeping the metal where it is, he diverts the course of his flesh hand south, while Tony is still out of it, and he cups the flesh of Tony’s pert rear, squeezing and pulling out groans from both of them – guttural and wanting – and jerking his own hips up until their groins press deliciously against one another – hard-on on hard-on – and James’s eyes roll up in their sockets.

“Take your shirt off.” Tony grunts, pulling himself up to sit in straddle on James’s hip. His rear pressing down on James’s cock, making his head spin. Tony shucks the shirt material up and up until it’s all bunched up on James’s chest. “Off, baby. Before I lose my mind.” He gasps when James shifts, arching his back to take the shirt off; unwittingly thrusting up into oblivion.

But Tony’s good at assembling his senses; fierce determination flaring in molten brown as he chucks his own top off of him quickly and moves to his zipper, lifting the delicious weight off of James’s lap to kneel and worm the pants down his hips to his thigh, his cock jumping free, hard and pink and James’s eyes zero on it hungrily. “Shit, Tony. No underwear?”

Tony doesn’t answer him, too focused on ridding them off all materials, his deft fingers moving to James’s since his own is dead and floppy by his side; lost in translation and lust. James watches as Tony pulls down the zipper, hooking fingers around the brief’s band and yanking it down, together with the jeans. His movement stutters to a stop when James’s own cock comes free and James watches in delight as Tony struggles with his priority.

Taking his cock in his metal hand, he taps at Tony’s cheek. “Pants off, doll.” Tony follows through in daze, hands working in motor reflex as he shimmies out of his own pants and pulls off James’s jeans which a bit more struggle but off at last. Off- naked and nude and everything synonymous and James can’t help but gape at his boyfriend in his birth suit, “Wow baby, you’re so beautiful.”

Lust blown pupils zero on him as Tony dives in for a kiss. Hungry and feverish and James hold on, tight and secure, metal fingers carding through curls and flesh ones travelling down until they tease the cleft, dipping, pulling out a long groan from Tony but James boldly persists, pressing his index finger in until he feels furled skin at its pad and he shudders with pure want. “Tony. Baby.”

“I know.” Tony gasps. His own fingers cupping around James’s jaw, tipping for a deeper kiss. “I know honey. I know.” Then he’s rolling over onto his back, thumb dragging out James’s bottom lip as he stretches his left hand to reach the drawer, rattling until; “Found it!” and when he rolls back on top of James, he’s grinning wide, accomplished of sorts, his brown eyes big and beautiful and James feels his own heart soar high.

“I love you.” He blurts out. Each syllable rolling so easily out of his tongue; definite in their conviction and whilst James briefly freaks out because he’d never said this out loud before nor was he planning to given their current circumstances, he is above retracting his words. They’re true after all. Down to each alphabet.

Therefore, he juts his chin out and looks Tony straight in the eyes, challenging him to question him; too engrossed in his own insecurities, that he’s mind blown when Tony presses their mouth together until James parts his lips and proceeds to lick into his mouth, long and lingering until James is blissfully hazy and Tony whispers into his mouth; “I though we were way past words.”

“Didn’t get the memo.” James sighs, beaming dazedly and Tony pecks him one more time, stealth fingers wrapping snuggly around James’s cock and he jerks up, hissing in surprise. “In that case, I love you too honey.” And he gives a harsh tug drawing out a long desperate moan out of James, before swallowing it down his own throat.

His hands work magic; strewn from memories and past experiences, adding in all those dextrousness that accompanies his profession. He’s unforgiving where James is unrelenting, and gentle when James gets too carried away. He plays him like black and white keys of his mothers’ piano; something so beloved yet so faraway in his memory, something so much akin to the man beneath him.

Tony takes care of James with such carefulness, living up to James’s trust in him; never letting him tipping too far off the line and yet giving him the unbidden taste of pleasure until James is calling for his name, begging; “Tony, please.” Like a music to his ears. Metal fingers shockingly cold around his face, caressing with calculated precision, thumbing kiss-swollen lips, tugging them downwards as blue eyes sparkle from the lights overhead. Pupil blown wide in lust, almost scary but the intriguing kind of scary. The fear that seduces you, not the one that chases you away and Tony follows, like a possessed man.

“You’re with me, baby?” He asks, petting brown strands away so he gets a full blast of ice cold blues and their wonder. James blinks sluggishly, parted lips mouthing ‘yes’ and Tony smiles at the blissed out look he wears so prettily. “Great.” He kisses under one eye, then another and then on the forehead, his thumb skirting around wet slit, rubbing pre-come round and round hypnotically. “I’m gonna prep myself for you okay. Then I’m gonna ride you real nice and make you feel so damn good alright, honey?”

James nods once. Delirious in his current state as all his senses are singularly focused on that single digit circling the head of his cock, round and round and _fuck_, it feels so good. He doesn’t know how this can be trumped by anything else but he trusts Tony. He knows Tony will carry out his promises. Tony always keeps his words. James got nothing to worry about when Tony – Oh- Oh.

It’s like reaching at a blinding light, “Can I?” he reaches out. Watching in awe as Tony grunts around disappearing fingers up his ass. Once – full, twice – half and thrice – oh. Two fingers. And James gulps. Tony looks at him with a wet smile. “You want to try?” He gasps and James nods. Propping himself up with one elbow and reaching and reaching with his right hand until Tony laughs softly and guides him – “You wanna try?” - lube slathered generously, to join his own right hand.

He gently curls all four of James’s fingers, except for the index and he lines pliant joints to probe, slitting snuggly in between two of his already working fingers. He groans just as James feels the stretch around his digit, but Tony doesn’t stop. Pushing it in and in until second knuckle passes through and he pants at James, face flushed; “Curl it for me, sweet pie” and James obeys, like a command and he’s on obligatory duty to follow it to the tee.

Tony whimpers, bottom lips disappearing behind a set of teeth and James sneaks his middle finger in – circling tantalizingly, warning beforehand before he presses it in as Tony tolerantly breathes in, relaxing around steady intrusion. His eyes fierce and steady on James’s as he manoeuvres James’s wrist, controlling the pace at which James fingers him, in an out – in and out until oh- “That good, baby?” And Tony nods, air puffing out shakily.

When he crooks two fingers deep into Tony, he sits up a little straighter just so he can coax Tony’s slack right fingers out, slippery wet with lube and something else and he hunches forward until he’s leaning, metal hand cushioning as he tips Tony onto his back on the bed carefully so that James can hover over him – two flesh fingers still crooked and nudging prostate, keeping Tony deliciously wrecked as he arranges himself around and slip a third finger in – squelching – followed quickly by the forth on, blue eyes never once parting the brown.

“Ah fuck, James.” Tony gasps when he pulls all four out, sloppy, slippery wet, until their tips and thrust them back in – squelch. “Fuck.” He groans at the filthy sound, tongue darting out to lick his lips as Tony arches into his touch, head thrown back in the utter epitome of wanton, baring his long neck, adams’ apple bobbing invitingly and James latches his mouth around it, sucking. His fingers work slow, then fast then faster and then harder and – “Oh! Oh- Fuck! Fuck! James- Baby, baby- Please-,”

And he stops. Only four tips of his fingers inside around fluttering rim as he kisses Tony, metal hand hunting for lube blindly until he finds it and he uncaps, doing a hasty one handed job of slathering his shaft with lube. Lots and lots of it because dammit! James loves the filthy sound of fucking apparently. He’s learning and he’s learning fast. Tony starts to laugh but James is too quick, pushing back four fingers punishingly in and smirking at the way Tony chokes on pleasure.

Then he pulls them all out, indulging in the way Tony huffs impatiently at him when he stalls a little longer, letting cold air cool the dripping lube out of his channel then dragging the head of his cock achingly down Tony’s perineum, circling and nudging into the fluttering rim and dragging it up again to repeat twice until Tony hisses, grabbing at his metal wrist which fingers’ are wrapped around his cock, halting the punishing movement and wordlessly making James push in.

“Ah.” Tony gasps, squeezing at his wrist and James stops altogether. Panic broiling up his surface, “Did I hurt you?”

“No. No. Just – Give me a sec.” He pants, breathing hard. Eyes closed and James stares, unmoving until he opens them and gives a nod. “Go on. _Slowly_.”

They work on that. Five stops between each push-ins until on the final one, James bottoms out with a shuddering exhale and Tony moans, twisting his fingers around James’s metal hand. And James lets him have it. Skimming past bare skin, sweat beads and heat until Tony has his cold metals exactly where he wants; over his mouth. Kissing each finger and returning to the thumb to suck on it and James takes it as his ‘to go’ signal.

Keeping their gaze connected, he pushes up one bent leg flush into Tony’s chest and pulls out long until the head of his cock is on the brink of popping out and then he thrusts in. Hard.

“Oh Fuck!” Tony arches, pushing his metal hand to his outstretched neck and James does it one more time, shivering in Tony’s pleasured cries. One more time, focusing on the filthy squelch that echoes through the room and he grins as Tony whimpers at it, eyes begging for something more.

“Not enough - Doll?” James grunts between thrusts, setting a steady pace, watching the way it rocks their bodies up and down the bed, the sound of skin slapping wetly and the wet squelching of Tony’s channel fuelling him.

As if to answer James’s question, Tony wordlessly splays out all his fingers, metal, five of them until they’re dangerously wrapped around Tony’s neck and he presses at the palm, daring.

James falters. “Tony.” His own throat closing in tightly at what he thinks Tony’s implying. But Tony’s relentless. Reaching out for James with his right hand as he maintains the left over his metal ones. “You’re not gonna hurt me.” He cups at James’s cheek, thumb brushing high on his cheekbone making James tilt his head and kiss calloused roughened palm. “Trust me.” He whispers, hoarse from begging and James melts into his predictably.

Tony doesn’t make him choke him. Doesn’t make James squeeze or anything, just keeping his metal hand around his throat as if that by itself is comforting enough for him. James eventually picks up on his rhythm, faster and faster and harder after each thrust until they’re both garbling nonsense.

When Tony lets go, James retracts his metal hand to push up the other leg up, bend and spread wide just like it’s pair – exposing everything for him to see, and Jesus. What an image that gives. “God, Tony. You’re so fucking perfect. So breath taking – Jesus.”

Tony manages to laugh at him, just as breathlessly as James feels and moans wantonly, taking in the harsh almost abusive but exceptionally mind blowing way James fucks into him. His entire body folding over protectively, hovering and pressing into Tony’s while his hips snap again and again, hitting the prostate with precision.

When Tony comes, it’s with a bitten down shout – strings of come hitting high up to the base of his throat, splattering some onto James – and he eases out of his orgasm with a whine as James unsurely fucks him through it and then tries to stop at the sound but Tony grabs him by his nape, “Don’t stop. I like – This. I like it if you just keep – Just keep going.”

Relieved, James reverts to his punishing rhythm, while Tony lies pliant, taking him with his blissed out look and he gazes up in wonder at James as he fucks him until the swell of knot in his lower stomach bursts and James comes in tensed silent shudder. Shooting pulses and pulses of come into Tony, unrelenting and groaning into the crook of Tony’s neck while Tony pets him through it.

When he pulls out, groaning from the friction as Tony squeezes around him, he watches in awe at his own come dribbling out - pearlescent white in contrast to the dusky pink of Tony’s skin. Fucking gorgeous.

James shivers, experimentally dragging two fingers up the track of his spilled seed until they dip easily into the still open channel. “James.” Tony gasps breathily. James glances up at him minutely, tongue wetting his lips and he pushes further in – past second knuckle - eyes darting between where his fingers are disappearing into and Tony’s wide eyes.

He pulls out and thrusts back in, watching the way Tony shivers and he thinks – He thinks perhaps Tony is loving this. So he does it again. Bolder. Harder, sure in his ministration and Tony arches – bow-like - moaning until his spine lifts off the mattress. “Pl- lease.” He begs and James gives, slipping third and then easily fourth and he’s feeling his own arousal gearing in in his lower belly.

The sound of his fingers fucking into Tony is thick in the heady air, the way his own come coats his fingers - warm and sticky wet - when he pulls them out, some slipping out, painting a filthy picture around his digits and Tony’s furled rim. Oh- “Fuck.” James gasps, metal hand palming at his rapidly hardening cock. Tony’s eyes flare wider open in disbelief. “Already?” He laughs, delirious and James plunders his fingers into him as punishment.

Four fingers squelching and thrusting – fingering Tony into blissful and unforgiving oblivion – driving him up and up and up until he’s sobbing, his voice wet with pure wants when he begs for James to “Please. It’s too much” and shrewd James, he knows that Tony doesn’t mean_ stop_. He knows that it means Tony wants _more_. He wants _harder_, _faster_, _more_,**_ more_** and “Fuck! Baby- Ugh. Mmphh – Yesyesyesyesyes - Oh”

And he keeps going, fucking through Tony’s dry orgasm, shaking into his own wet – utterly too soon – one and he comes so hard he collapses face first between Tony’s legs, fingers finally stilling mercifully.

He finds some semblance in him to pop his semen soaked fingers out - wiping them down the sheet - and kisses apologetically over Tony’s one hipbone. Then he crawls up until his eyes level with Tony’s and picks at the arm crossing over his face. Peppering kisses to each knuckle, he pries away to reveal Tony’s flushed face. “Hey.” grins as Tony opens one eye at him and closes back instantly.

“You killed me.” Tony slurs, nose scrunching adorably. “Deaded. I am deaded.” He declares and James chuckles, pecking over an irresistible pout and rolling out of bed reluctantly.

He comes back with a pair of warm and wet towels. Shifting Tony gently, he wipes down the mess they made; focusing on the most visible, all over his chest where James had to rub a little harder which pulls out a whiny moan out of Tony. He smiles, wiping away damp curls out of Tony’s half opened eyes while he moves down to the groin and crevices. “Sorry I made a big mess.” He murmurs, circling around the hole and chucking the tainted towel in exchange for the second cleaner one, and he repeats the motion from the neck down to groin, ass cleft, asshole and inner thighs until he’s pretty sure Tony’s considerably clean.

When he climbs back into bed, Tony pulls him in with a spoiled whine through his nose making James sniggers but relents anyway because god, why wouldn’t he. He may have taken an hour to actually fall asleep after that but when he does; he’s got his entire perspective of sex shifted for him. Subsequently his trust on himself as well. In the end, when he drifted off with fingers in Tony’s damp hair and arms around his shoulder, he thinks maybe he wouldn’t be so opposed to try it again with Tony. Maybe not too long after. Maybe soon. Maybe the morning. After all, Tony did promise him a ride.


End file.
